Doorway
by A for Anarchy
Summary: Number 23 in my one-word prompt series. AU Tywin/Sansa and sequel to "Laugh." Rated T for language. It's Christmas in the Stark home, but not all is merry and bright. There is an intruder in this joyous family occasion, and Ned will see him routed out!


**Disclaimer**: I do not own _A Song of Ice and Fire_. It belongs to GRRM.

**Author's Note**: This makes number 23 in my one-word prompt series. AU Tywin/Sansa and follow up to "Laugh." You can thank Tommyginger for getting me off track.

_So this is Christmas  
I hope you have fun_*

Christmas in the Stark home was a time of familial joy and celebration. Now that his older children had moved out, Winterfell had become their touchstone, the place that they returned to in order to reaffirm their family ties. But, because of Tywin Lannister, Christmas in his home would be forever tainted.

Even though he had accepted that Tywin was Sansa's husband and father of her unborn child, there was no power in Westeros that could compel him to accept _Tywin_.

The man was an insidious poison, bent on turning Ned's family against him. Catelyn had conceded to his presence in their family far too easily, and his sons, _all_ of them, had overcome their initial hostility once they saw that the Lannister lion protected his young wife fiercely. And Arya, his last hope for a stalwart defense, succumbed to the old bastard's subtle charms. Ned was left alone, abandoned by his family, and forced into the untenable position of having to make nice with Tywin Lannister.

As he stood in the doorway to the living room, quietly observing Sansa interact with Tywin, he ruefully admitted to himself that he had lost the battle, but the war was far from over. Ned continued to lean on the door's frame, unnoticed by the couple on the sofa. They were speaking softly, almost too softly for Ned to hear, but he could not help catching their words.

"You shouldn't say things like that. What if he can actually hear you?"

Ned startled a bit, sure that they were unaware of his presence and thus not speaking about _him_, leaving one other possibility…

"Sansa, all the books say that a foetus is capable of distinguishing voices at this stage of development. My son will learn to heed my words before ever entering this world. I will not have a repeat of the gross disrespect evinced by his older siblings. Now, be silent while I speak to him."

Well, that was…disturbing. Tywin speaking to Sansa's belly as if it were the most natural thing in the world was not a sight that Ned would soon forget. However, he did listen closely, hoping to glean fodder for his shots at Tywin later.

Tywin resumed his lecture to his progeny while Sansa looked on with exasperated indulgence, "There will be no backtalk, my little cub, not even to that incompetent grandfather of yours; respect in all things, until you have the power to make it otherwise."

Ned burned a little at the 'incompetent' remark, but felt vindicated when Sansa cuffed Tywin for it. He saw Tywin shoot her a glare before continuing, completely ignoring her interruption, "You will, of course, have to contend with your older siblings, but I perceive that they will be of little consequence as they seem incapable of finding their collective backsides with a detailed map. Casterly will be yours, unless you prove yourself to be unworthy."

"Tywin!"

"And don't listen to your mother; she is a sentimental woman, and therefore suspect."

"You didn't mind my sentimentality this morning when I had your cock halfway down my throat," Sansa replied tartly.

_Gah!_ Ned could not know that, he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to block out that particular image and fumbled away from the door.

The noise startled Sansa and Tywin out of their exchange, and they looked around for its source; finding nothing, Tywin went back to his lecturing, and Sansa donned the façade of the longsuffering wife.

Meanwhile, Ned tried, frantically, to purge his mind of Sansa and Tywin _in coitus_ with little success. He had lost a battle that he hadn't known he was fighting, leaving the score at Tywin-2, Ned-0. This would not be borne! Somehow, someway, Ned would gain the upper hand and punish Tywin for his intrusion, his insolence, and his lecherous tendencies!

Another day had passed, and Ned had made no headway in the war.

Winterfell bustled with activity, and his children shrieked and scampered everywhere as if they were toddling babes again. Except for Sansa, who waddled about laboriously, ordering her siblings around in a practiced manner that foretold how much she looked forward to impending motherhood.

Ned would catch himself gazing at her with misty-eyed wonder, delighting in her resemblance to Catelyn. Then, Tywin would appear by her side, placing a possessive hand on her round belly while the other wrapped around her hip, anchoring Sansa to him. His blood would boil every time, and Tywin always managed to throw a knowing smirk in his direction.

Strange that no one else could see what an evil bastard he was, but Ned persevered anyway. He was patient in his observations, taking care not to make himself obvious, but his efforts were spoiled constantly by the interruptions of his family. Just when he was on the verge of suing for a temporary peace, Catelyn unknowingly saved him from losing face by announcing a family shopping trip.

Ned was always excluded from Christmas shopping due to his tendency to spend enormous amounts of money. He was not a man to spoil his children carelessly, but he made exceptions for Christmas. Tywin had announced that the Christmas crowds would be greatly offensive, and he had no wish to mingle with them.

Ned had barely managed to restrain his glee; at last, he could finally corner Tywin and goad him into confessing. Then, when his family returned, he would reveal all and they would proclaim him their triumphant savior!

He waited for approximately 20 minutes, ensuring that his family was well and truly gone before seeking out Tywin. Ned found him in the living room, once again lingering in the doorway as he fought off the nausea induced by seeing Tywin on the sofa he had occupied with Sansa the previous day.

Ned steeled himself against the memory and forged ahead; he was determined that this would be the last day that Tywin Lannister stayed with his home. He stood behind Tywin, ready to let loose the first volley, but was brought up short when he noticed the book in his hands. The wind promptly left Ned's sails, his righteous indignation at the interloper cooled, for in his hands Tywin held _Fatherhood and You: It's Going to be Okay, Dad_.

It was a sight both ridiculous and heartwarming, but Ned felt a stab of pity for the man with three children who still lacked a grasp on the finer points of parenting. Perhaps he would call the ceasefire, for now, and instead offer Tywin his quiet sympathy and understanding. Maybe that way they cou—

"Are you going to stand there gawping like some mentally incapacitated yeti, or are you going to take a seat?"

Maybe Ned had been a bit hasty with the thoughts of peace and sympathy; still, it would not do to turn tail and run now. He walked around the sofa, taking the seat farthest from Tywin, and began rifling through the books that littered the coffee table. Each one bore a title similar to the book Tywin held, so his fare for passing the time was limited. Not wanting to mire himself in books regarding infancy and baby talk, Ned decided to chance a conversation with Tywin.

"These books are generally rubbish, full of useless information, and you're a parent already. Can't you just draw on your experience? Things haven't changed _that_ much." So much for light conversation. Ned regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, but the milk was spilled, no taking it back.

Tywin slowly lowered the book, skewering Ned with his glare, "If I should ever be in the unfortunate position of asking _you_ for advice on any subject, Stark, I will inform you."

Ned grimaced, feeling irrationally chastened by the other man, "Look, Tywin, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Catelyn and I have scads of books just like these in a box somewhere, and not a single one of them was any godsdamned use the first time Robb threw up on me, when Arya had her first boyfriend, or when Sansa showed up married to you and pregnant."

Tywin still glowered, but remained silent; Ned took it as a sign to keep going, "I'm saying that there is nothing that you can read that will prepare you to be a parent, a _good_ parent, but experience is the best teacher there is. You're a father, Tywin, to three other children; surely this next will not be so different?"

Ice filled Tywin's voice as he spoke, "If you knew my family, or if I were inclined to tell you, you would not wish that on my child. I have three wastrel children, and I refuse to add a fourth to their number."

In the back of Ned's mind, a memory sparked to life, and he recalled scandals and rumors that added weight to Tywin's words.

"I apologize for any offense I may have given, but, Tywin, she's my daughter! That was _my_ little girl that you married and impregnated; don't I have the right to—"

"No," Tywin snarled at him, "you haven't any right at all! That girl is a diamond in the rough, a treasure, and you were going to let her go to waste!"

He cut himself off, not bothering to finish his thought, already furious at how much Ned had managed to provoke him into revealing some of his feelings regarding Sansa. For his part, Ned stared in shocked silence. He could not have imagined that Tywin actually _cared_ for Sansa, and the revelation was a gut wrenching one: he had, well and truly, lost his daughter to the most dangerous and feared man in Westeros.

But, he was also the man that feared repeating the mistakes of the past when it came to the rearing of his unborn son, and he was the man who loved (possibly, probably, hopefully) his daughter. And for Sansa and his grandson's sakes, Ned would call _pax_ with Tywin indefinitely (until the bastard fucked it up, and then Ned would gleefully resume the conflict).

"I'll never like, Tywin, and I'll never trust you. There's too much bad blood between us for that, but I trust that you hold what is yours dear; and as much as I hate it, Sansa is yours. That being said, all the gold in Westeros will not save you from me if you hurt her."

Tywin gave him a steady look, unperturbed by his threat. "As you say, what is mine I keep, and I keep it well."

"Right, just so we're clear. Happy fucking Christmas, you old bastard."

After Tywin's derisive snort, silence reigned over the two men until the others returned home. When they did, Ned watched as Tywin went to Sansa immediately, stripping her of her parcels and winter gear before leading her to sit on the sofa while he eased away the aches and pains of her shopping trip. He hated to admit it, and never would aloud, but he felt glad to see Sansa so well taken care of, even if it were at the hands of Tywin Lannister.

Christmas was a time for family, and Ned would, albeit begrudgingly, accept Tywin's place in his.

A stray thought zinged through him, arresting all others: had Tywin told his other children of the new additions to their family? Oh gods, he might have to find a way to keep Sansa after all because Robert always said that Cersei could be a rabid bitch when she felt threatened. Ned kept the thought to himself; perhaps he would ask Sansa later. She was a safer prospect, and he did not feel like being raked over the coals twice in once holiday season.

**Author's Note Part II**

*John Lennon's "Merry Xmas, War is Over," a song protesting war, and ironically perfect.

_Pax_: for those of you not up with you Latin (shame!), this literally means 'peace.' It can also mean to call a truce. To 'call pax' is an older phrase, but I like to use it whenever possible.

And kudos to you, readers, if you spot my _Serenity_ reference!


End file.
